Cherry on Top
by TheMadKatter13
Summary: 'MerKat RPs' series 07: A milkshake, a cherry, an old crush, and a new opportunity collide. Literally. alpha!nerd!Mycroft / omega!greaser!Greg.


**Another attempt at Mystrade for Kat, and a first attempt at greaserlock for the both of us.**

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Greg never expected to see someone like Mycroft Holmes in any establishment that he himself would frequent, but judging by the glare the alpha was levelling at Greg's fellow greaser, the square wasn't at Mrs Hudson's for the malts. Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's younger brother, was sitting at the end of the bar, listening to Victor with a mischievous grin and an arm slung securely around his mate's shoulders. At first, Greg hadn't been able to figure out what someone like Sherlock saw in a square like Johnny. But that had been before the omega had happened on a public brawl between their gang and the twats from Baskerville on his way home from school. The little scrapper had dropped his books and rough-and-tumbled his way through the mass like the best of 'em to his mate. Aftward, bleeding from a cut on his forehead and nursing a sprained wrist, he'd been grinning brighter than any of them and they had adopted an odd addition to their pack. But as far as Greg knew, Mycroft had been away from home the last few years, and as such, had completely missed every bit of the relationship since its inception, and knowing Sherlock, the lazy alpha had probably neglected to tell anyone who couldn't see the mating mark for themselves that he'd bonded. Either that or the square didn't know his younger brother was still a greaser. Either way, Greg was sure the man needed a milkshake and oh, look! Greg happened to have an extra.

Mycroft knew, logically, that he could not bore holes in his brother's thick skull with his mind and glare alone. That never stopped him from trying. He knew Sherlock had been in trouble - not from their parents of course, nothing was ever a problem with them. But he had other contacts in this town. Not friends. Mycroft Holmes didn't make friends. Perhaps part of his annoyance was due to not only Sherlock having apparently made at least a few friends, but also convincing someone to mate with him. At least John Watson seemed to be a good influence. Or at least a better one then the greasers he'd chosen to associate with.

And, there was one of them now, Gregory Lestrade, leader of the greasers, carrying an extra milkshake of all things. He was slightly older than the others, his hair gone prematurely gray. Heading right for his table. Mycroft saw another greaser stick his foot out, timing it so that the other one would no doubt spill both milkshakes all over Mycroft's suit. He brought up his umbrella to try and ward off the inevitable spill.

Dimmock would. Of course Dimmock would. That fucker. Vanilla milkshake went flying through the air and he could only watch in horror as it fell through the air towards the pristine suit of the alpha he was approaching. The umbrella in his hand popped up and open, catching the worst of it, but still some milky liquid landed on the man's face. His mind took a brief derail at the thought of a different milky liquid on the attractive redhead's face. And then the cherry from the milkshake dropped onto that red hair, and rather than becoming embarrassed for his jack-off friend's forced clumsiness, he began to laugh.

Mycroft didn't want to blush. But the entire cafe was laughing at him now. So he flushed. He hated that he flushed. Standing, he shook out the umbrella, noticing a cherry landing on the table. Turning his formidable glare on all the greasers, he grabbed a napkin and stalked out with as much grace as he could muster, waiting until he was outside and away from view of the windows before wiping his face. He was shaking. And he hated that too.

"Aw, shit," Greg muttered, snagging a bunch of napkins from the table before hurrying out after the alpha, not missing the way Sherlock was glaring in their direction as John just looked up, confused at his alpha's change in attitude. He found the older man just around the corner of the building, wiping milkshake off his face. Outside in the clean air, the smell of the alpha was stronger and he took a slow, deep breath. It wasn't the first time he'd seen or smelled the older Holmes, but it had been a long time and he realised the crush he'd formed years back was still very much still active. "I wasn't laughing at you, you know," he said as he approached, trying to maintain the necessary greaser facade, even as his heart began to pound just a little faster. "Just... cherries belong on the top of treats and it kinda landed perfectly, you know?"

Mycroft glared at him. "I am not now, nor will I ever be any sort of 'treat' for you, Gregory." The truth was, he was fond of Greg, and always had been. But Gregory had chosen to embrace the greasers and all they stood for, so Mycroft had never acted on any sort of desire he might have had. Besides, if he was going anywhere in the world, he'd need a mate he could rely on, not someone still habitually in high school when they should have either dropped out or graduated by now. And he was staring at the omega. He pulled his gaze away and dabbed at an invisible stain on his waistcoat, reminding himself that it did no good to dwell on the past and might have beens.

He tried not to let that rejection hurt. "You've always been a treat, My, even if you aren't for me." There were so many things he could say to have an alpha at his feet in seconds, but with Mycroft, he was certain none of them would work. And all he really wanted was to get to know the redhead better. Brazenly, he stepped forward and swept the tip of his finger through the dot of milkshake on a freckled nose, his tongue darting out to lick it from his fingertip. He could taste a trace of the other in the vanilla and it was _delicious_. His eyes fluttered as he let the taste sit on his tongue, savouring it because he felt sure he'd never have it again.

Mycroft stared at him, shocked by his boldness. And the way his eyes fluttered and his tongue moved... He was staring again. He worked his mouth for a few moments, glad the deep brown eyes were closed for the moment. "Are you at least keeping Sherlock out of major trouble?"

Greg's eyes flew open. He had expected the alpha to walk away while he was so inappropriately enjoying himself. He definitely hadn't expected the conversation to continue. And then he laughed. "Me? Keep that one out of major trouble? Not a chance. I try but, you know Sherlock," he chuckled. The boy was a genius, but sometimes, a rather stupid one. "Johnny though, Johnny's been real good for him. Gives him a reason to stay alive and unharmed, more or less."

"Yes. It's a shocking waste of talent and potential." Mycroft looked pointedly at Greg.

Greg went from aroused to defensive in a second. "Just because he doesn't use his talents like you or his parents want doesn't make it a waste. He wasn't happy doing what he was and you know it. Why do you think he became a greaser in the first place?" he defended hotly. Sherlock was a good friend to him, a good packmate, and yeah he was rough on the edges, but he tried in his own way. And the omega could still clearly remember the controlled mess the younger alpha had been back before he'd met John. Back when he was still on cocaine.

"I wasn't merely speaking of Sherlock." Mycroft turned away from Greg. He never could bite his tongue the way he should around this omega. "And I do appreciate what you have done with him." He adjusted his umbrella. He should go.

Greg frowned in confusion and then blinked. Was Mycroft...? "I'm going to be a police officer," he blurted suddenly and then promptly flushed. He hadn't even told his parents already, though Sherlock had likely already deduced his intended career path.

Mycroft turned and stared at him. "You're actually going to graduate?" It was a stupid thing to say and he regretted it as soon as he saw the hurt look on Gregory's face.

"Yeah, I'm gonna fucking graduate," he growled. "Just because I made a few poor choices earlier on doesn't mean I'm going to keep doing them. What, because I'm a greaser, you think I'm stupid?"

"No Gregory. You were never stupid. And judging by the way you handle the other greasers, you'll be a fine officer." Mycroft bit his lip. How did this omega make him feel so flustered? "I'm sure you have important things to attend to."

"I am attending to them," he replied, slightly appeased by the off-hand compliment. Red filtered across freckled cheeks and, emboldened by that, he made an offer he really hoped the alpha wouldn't refuse. "My heat's next week."

Mycroft's eyes widened at the offer. "Surely there's other alphas you'd rather spend your heat with. The one with the quick foot, for instance."

Greg snorted. "Dimmock? Fuck no. And especially not after that stunt." There was a loud burst of sound behind him and he turned to watch his pack spilling from the door, moving towards their bikes. He wondered for a minute if that was Mycroft's way of rejecting him or if he just needed a little bit more of a hint that yeah, it really was _Mycroft_ that Greg wanted to attend to his heat. And then he saw John get on Sherlock's bike, curling up close behind his mate, and he got a fantastic (terrifying) idea. Everyone knew greasers didn't let just _anyone_ on their bikes. Not even quick lays, or rarely at that. He turned back to face the alpha. "You ever been on a bike?"

Mycroft's eyes went even wider, if that was possible. "N...no I haven't," he stammered. He was not the sort to _ever_ have a reason to get on the back of bikes. Ones like him didn't get on bikes with boys. No matter how delicious they smelled.

"C'mon," he grinned, grabbing a soft, long-fingered hand and tugging the alpha towards where his bike was waiting for him at the head of the others. Sherlock was glaring at him and shaking his head but Greg ignored him. In seconds, he had mounted the machine and pulled a stunned-looking square on behind him. "Just remember to lean with me when I turn, hold on tight, and you'll be fine!" he directed as the bike roared to life. Mycroft glued himself to his back, arms tight around his waist, clutching at the open front of his leather jacket as they started forward, and the omega sincerely hoped that this day would end in a similar way, only with a great deal less clothing.

Clutching Gregory, Mycroft tried to remember to breath as the wind whipped through his hair. Still, there was something exhilarating once he relaxed enough to enjoy the sensation. He buried his head against the omega's shoulder. He could smell him above the wind and it was nearly as intoxicating as the speed. He blinked as they finally came to a stop just outside of town. And alone. Mycroft's heart beat faster for a different reason.

The gang had slowly broken away during the ride, going off to do whatever it was they did when they were alone, and Greg had impulsively decided to take Mycroft from the city's limits. There was a spot he knew, a spot where they could... be alone. He was a bit surprised that, when he turned his bike off, the square didn't immediately hop off, and he took a moment to appreciate the slow way the alpha's scent was layering over his own from the extended contact. He shifted in his seat, and was surprised to feel a hot length pressing against his arse. And then he remembered the first time he'd hopped on a bike, the boner he'd popped from the intense vibrations between his legs, and he really hoped that wasn't the _only_ reason for the erection and the scent of arousal in the air.

Mycroft noticed Gregory didn't jump off right away. He pulled the omega a little close, nosing his neck. "Is there where you take all the alphas?" He tried to say it in a teasing way, but he was at least a little serious.

A shiver ran down his spine as he was nuzzled and he angled his head, exposing his neck further to the alpha. "Nah. This ain't a place you take a fling." The hands curled in his jacket were starting to get braver, smoothing over the white tee stretched across his stomach. He relaxed into the touch, humming slightly as he leaned back into the warm man behind him. The bright sun on his face and the touch of a crush across his clothes. As much as he enjoyed hanging with the pack, this was a much more pleasant way to spend his afternoon.

Mycroft found himself growling slightly. He nuzzled Gregory a little more, his hand drifting farther south. He'd never had any omega, but he had an idea of what to do. And he was trying not to think of Gregory with another alpha.

Though he long ago had mastered his reaction to riding a bike, the scent of Mycroft and the alpha's arousal in the air, the feel of him nuzzling him, had made him hard, and he only got harder as the hands on him started getting closer to his cock. A firm palm swept over him and he moaned, hands tightening on the handlebars of his bike. It paused at his reaction, and then did it again, drawing another low sound from his throat and he forced himself to relax, to let go. His hands fell from his bike and swung back to grasp at Mycroft's knees as he melted into the suddenly-intimate embrace. His hips rolled up the best they could, encouraging and pleading all at once.

Wondering if Gregory could tell his inexperience, Mycroft got his jeans open and palmed his cock. The way the greaser jerked in his arms only fueled his own desire. He needed him, like he needed no one else. But the back of a motorcycle wasn't going to work well. He nudged Gregory to get off the bike, thinking maybe they could spread their jackets on the ground.

The soft skin of Mycroft's palm on his cock felt _amazing_, and he whined when it pulled away. But a moment later, he realised what the alpha wanted and he practically flew off his bike, pulling his jacket off and dropping it to the ground, following shortly after and staring up eagerly at the older male as he spread his legs with a wicked grin.

Mycroft's breath caught as he looked down at the omega whose dark brown eyes were nearly black. Fumbling, Mycroft tugged down his jeans and ran a hand down to the cleft of his arse, moaning softly as he encountered the wet.

Greg echoed the alpha's moan as shy fingers traced the edges of his hole and he tilted his hips up in encouragement, biting his lip at the look of absolute wonder on the square's face. Hadn't he ever had an omega before? At the possible thought that he hadn't, a warmth spread through Greg's chest. A chance to be someone's first was always fun, and perhaps he could be someone's last. This someone's last. A finger pressed into him and he immediately lost that train of thought. "Yessss..." he hissed, dropping his head back onto the grass and closing his eyes.

Gregory was simply gorgeous like this. All his stupid bravado was stripped away. Mycroft got his boots off and stripped the jeans the rest of the way. The omega's cock was smaller than his own, of course. Mycroft blushed. The closest encounter he'd had with anyone else's cock was in the locker room or a few illicit glances at dirty magazines. At least Gregory seemed to be enjoying the way he was touching him.

Mycroft seemed to be doing a little too much staring and not enough touching, and as flattering as it was, staring was for after, touching was for now. He curled forward, snagging the hand not inside him, stroking the long soft fingers. "You have the kind of square hands that make me think you probably play piano," he said and then promptly cut off any response by sucking two into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits. The finger in him stilled and he gave a short whine, planting his heels and thrusting up, forcing the finger completely inside him and he moaned around the fingers in his mouth.

Gasping, Mycroft went back to pumping his fingers in and out of the omega. He watched, wide-eyed, looking between the luscious fingers sucking his digits, and the way his other fingers vanished into the slick entrance. He bit his lip and added a third, conscious he was still fully dressed and his cock was thoroughly tenting his trousers, but unwilling to stop long enough to remove them.

"Mycroft," he moaned, pulling the fingers from his his mouth and encouraging them to wrap around his cock. Immediately, they tightened and began to stroke, and his hips bucked as the long fingers inside him pressed against the bundle of nerves he himself could never quite find. He gave a short cry when the alpha began to massage it consistently and he could no longer stay still. "Shit, stop!" he gasped as his cock threatened to orgasm prematurely. He was still young enough to have good stamina and quick recovery, especially being an omega, but he really wanted his first one with the alpha to be when the older man was inside him.

Mycroft withdrew his fingers, panting. He wiped his fingers on a handkerchief and forced himself to remove every article of clothing, carefully laying it where it would get the least amount of dirt. He could tell the omega was impatient, desperate. So was he, but certain things had to be done. "Do you have protection?"

"Ah, shit," Greg muttered, thinking hard. "Yeah, yeah!" He remembered stuffing a few condoms in his jacket's inner pocket the other morning and he rolled to one side, clumsy fingers fumbling at the zip until he finally got it open, pulling out a string of packets with a triumphant "Hah!"

Mycroft took one and tried again to not think about who else Gregory had given himself to. It didn't matter, did it? He was here now. And there was no way he was walking away. He got it on and moved up to take him, awkward.

Greg hurriedly shucked his tee as the deliciously weighty form settled over him, soft skin finally against his own. At the feeling of the tip of a hard cock pressing against his hole, he wrapped arms and legs around Mycroft and shifted his hips, feeling him sliding just the littlest bit inside. He hummed at the sensation, nipping at the ear by his mouth.

Moaning and trembling, Mycroft felt his control slipping. Gregory was so hot and wet, even through the condom. He thrust his hips forward and felt Gregory's moan even more then he heard it. How long had he wanted this? He started thrusting harder and faster, feeling the way the omegas body grasped at him. His knot was starting to swell.

The alpha felt amazing inside of him, thrusting in slow, stuttering thrusts that were no less deep for all that the were shy. My's face was red and Greg could only find it an endearing match to his hair and freckles as he moved his hips best he could to help. The alpha's knot was starting to swell, stretching him with each thrust and he desperately occupied his mouth with the soft skin of a freckled shoulder as his orgasm rose.

Mycroft buried his face against Gregory's shoulder. He'd never kissed anyone, least of all this particular omega. He didn't know if he'd have this privilege again, no point screwing it up with an awkward kiss. His eyes screwed tightly shut, knot preventing him from withdrawing. With a groan he came, tears stinging his eyes as he held Gregory desperately.

He wished more than anything he could feel the alpha come in him, and as much as he didn't want to get pregnant, it's not like he wanted to spend his life with anyone else either. The knot pressing against him, swelling inside him, had him moaning and coming between them, and he desperately sought out the silver-tongued mouth, sweeping his own tongue inside. The kiss was messy and a bit desperate and altogether perfect and he was glad they had this moment together because, if he could get Mycroft to join him for his heat, they wouldn't be in the right state of mind for a snog.

Mycroft moaned, breathless. He tangled his hands in Gregory's hair, feeling the omega still milking him, despite the condom. He hoped Gregory didn't see the tears; he wanted this to be perfect. He slid his tongue into Greg's mouth, shivering as he tasted his lover. And he knew he wanted no one else.

There was water dripping onto his face and, mid-kiss, he blinked his eyes open, wondering if a summer storm had set in. Nope. It was still as clear as it had been when he'd pulled up. And then he realised the water was tears from Mycroft's tightly clenched eyes. The body over his shuddered as the tongue finally reciprocated and he felt a fondness spread through his chest as he reached up to mirror the alpha, gently combing his fingers through the auburn hair. When the knot deflated and the alpha moved to pull out, Greg tightened his arms and legs. "What's the rush, My?" he asked, keeping his voice light. "Stay for the after-party."

Mycroft blinked down at him. "You want me to stay?"

Greg chuckled, running his hands down the broad back over him. "Yeah? I mean, hopefully you didn't have any other plans tonight because I'm certainly not done with you."

"Aren't there...others?" Mycroft bit his lip. He imagined that an omega like Gregory would have his pick. And an Alpha like him wasn't exactly greaser material.

Greg cocked his head, considering the alpha still inside him. "Not if you don't want there to be," he murmured. "There's never been anyone serious for me and the one alpha I wanted had never showed an interest in me before."

A shiver went down Mycroft's spine. Blindly he reached into his trousers and pulled out his wallet. Without taking his eyes off Greg, he pulled something out and put it the omega's hand.

It was a photo. Old, worn and ragged round the edges, but a photo. And one he recognised. At one point during Mycroft's abroad schooling, Greg had gone to Sherlock's to collect the punk, only to be drawn into a family photo meant to be sent to their older alpha son. He swiped a thumb over his face and realised the photo was faded along the path his thumb had taken, like another had done the same countless times. "You know, when Sherlock started being all sweet on Johnny, I couldn't help but wonder where he picked it up from 'cause it certainly wasn't from us." He pulled the leather wallet from unresisting fingers and reverently slid the photo back into place "I'm starting to think he got it from you."

"I always thought you held no interest in me," said Mycroft softly, burying his head against the omega's shoulder. "And it frustrated me that you cared so little for school. Why do you think I accepted something so far away?"

He could either be really annoyed at both of them for being so thick, or he could move past it. They still had so much time left in life. "Straight As, all term," he informed proudly. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to be a police officer. I finally pulled my head out of my arse and decided to get my shit together. And I'd really like it if that shit included you."

Mycroft raised his head and cocked an eyebrow. "I will have you know I am not shit."

"No, My, I didn't mean-" His protest was cut short by a twitch of lips and he gasped. "Did you just make a joke?!"

In answer Mycroft leaned down and kissed him again, savoring his taste in his mouth.

"So..." Greg breathed between slow kisses, "next week: my heat, your cock. Can I put it on my calendar?"

Mycroft actually laughed. He felt as free as he had on the back of Gregory's bike."Yes."

FIN

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**Please don't forget to review and to stop by and see Mer, merindab, and me, themadkatter13-fanfiction, on our tumblrs! :3**

**EDIT: Now with sequel, 'Tardiness and Miscommunication'.**


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